A/N: the first part of this chapter is in normal P.O.V - and it is horror-ish. But, technically it's just an extra. You don't have to read it - if you scroll down past the bit that it alligned centre, then that part of the story is the shopping process and aftermath in Jade's P.O.V. Wahey!

However, if you want to read the first part, you are most welcome to. See what you think of it and stuff :)

(sorry for putting a note at the top. I try not to, but this time I felt I needed to.)


Stacey couldn't sleep.

The draft that crept through the apartment ebbed and flowed like the lazy pull of the tide. Cold. She would have to get the bedroom wall checked out again, much to the her displeasure. The small income she was making was barely sufficient enough to live off, let alone help towards frivolities like reconstructing her flat.

It didn't matter. In September she would be long gone, once the lease on the flat was finished. She would be gone, and she would be happy. Or, at least, she liked to think so.

Stacey let out a tired, elongated sigh, running fingers through damp hair. It was so cold, but she was so uncomfortably hot. She was sweating. If there was anything Stacey hated more than lack of sleep, it was sweating.

Frustrated, she reached for the lamp, promising herself a nice, relaxing cup of tea. If she remembered correctly, there was even a packet of unopened ginger biscuits in one of the cupboards in the kitchen. That was motivation enough for her to slip on a pair of white slippers and stagger to her feet.

Bang.

Clatter.

She stood paralysed from shock, hands folded around the door handle. "What was that?" said to no one in particular, slowly pressing her ear against the smooth surface of the door. All she could hear was the monotonous hum from her alarm clock. "It must have been one of the frames." She muttered, daring herself to open the door. "I never put them away properly."

The apartment was empty, the window hanging open in the living area, curtains fluttering in the breeze. Stacey could have sworn it had been locked before - but last night had been so hectic that she wouldn't have been surprised if she had forgotten.

Moving swiftly to the window, she pulled the latch and closed it, realising that her hands were shaking. Stacey took a deep breath. Everything was fine. She was on the 14th story of a tower bock in the middle of a very docile neighbourhood. Nothing bad was going to happen to her.

"You're fine. You're okay."

Stacey repeated this to herself under her breath, browsing the shelves for her favourite mug. She caught sight of it on the draining board. Last year, one of her friends from college had given it to her as a souvenir after they moved to Amsterdam. Stacey wished she could have gone to Amsterdam too, sometimes.

Boiling the kettle, she reached for the patterned tin filled with Earl Grey. "Tea, tea, tea… how do I open this?" She mumbled incoherently, fingers running nimbly over the surface of the box, not really awake enough to know what she was doing.

Thud.

She had forgotten to check the frames.

Begrudgingly, leaving the kitchen to fumble around in the dark, she headed over to the stacks of glass, metal and plywood. Nothing was out of place. Nothing that she could see, anyway. She needed light, and mentally scolded herself for not thinking of it before.

Her hand reached for the switch, flicking it on. The overhead light flickered and died.

"Shit." She cursed, trying again. Nothing worked.

The other lamp was on the other side of the room. It wasn't the greatest of distances, but it was hidden behind piles of unused chipboard and sheets of metal.

There is no point in trying to sort it out now, Stacey thought to herself, unwilling to fiddle around in the dark any longer, I'll sort it out in the morning. Changing a light when it's this dark is a stupid idea.

Padding back to the kitchen, she made her way to the kettle. Assuming it would have boiled after all the time she had wasted, she poured out the water into the mug. The water didn't change colour like it normally did, and it wasn't steaming. Maybe she hadn't left the kettle on for long enough…

Wrapping her hands around her mug, thinking it was a trick of the light, she brought it to her lips. The tea hadn't brewed; it tasted like tap water. And it was cold. As cold as it had been when she had filled the kettle. "That's odd."

Instinctively, Stacey checked the plugs. Everything was on. Everything should have been working, but it wasn't.

Power outage, she thought, slumping against the counter. Without the tea, she didn't feel like those ginger biscuits anymore.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Stacey turned, facing the darkness that crept in through the kitchen door. Last time she checked, inanimate objects did not make that sound on their own. No. That sounded like heavy footfall.

"Hello?" She whispered into the shadows, afraid to raise her voice. "Hello, is anyone there?"

No answer.

Her fear spiked, her heart hammering away with the sudden adrenaline rush. Now she was sweating, but she wasn't hot anymore. She was cold, so very cold.

Taking tentative steps towards the door, she reached forward, wanting to know but at the same time, wanting to remain ignorant. Not wanting to know what might be beyond the safety of the kitchen.

Stacey wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to.

The exit to the apartment was next to her bedroom door.

"I'm armed." She said a little louder this time, clutching the knife that had been left on the worktop. "And I'm not afraid to use it. I will fight you, if I have to." Yet, no matter how hard she clutched at her weapon, she found no safety in it.

Stacey didn't know how to use a knife to defend herself, and they could have a gun.

But something made her keep moving, kept her taking tentative steps forward. Slow and steady, and each as uncertain as the last. "Stop hiding." She demanded, finding comfort in the tone of her voice. It was better than the knife that she held against her side. "Come out."

There was no one in the living room. It was as empty as it had always been. No signs of movement. Now that the moonlight was casting shadows, she could see that nothing had been touched. There was nothing large enough to hide behind, either.

Swallowing convulsively, she turned, staring into pitch-black nothingness, where the moonlight didn't reach.

Thud.

The hand holding the knife twitched. Whoever, or whatever-it-was had been in her bedroom.

Thud.

And now it was standing at least two metres away from her.

Thud.

Her breathing caught in her throat. Stacey couldn't see, because the terror was making her eyes sting with fresh tears. Anything she could have said was forgotten; the hand holding the knife, dead at her side.

Thud.

Something glinted in the dark.

Stacey screamed.


Stacey Mason.

Daughter of Alexandra and Brian Mason.

She was an ambitious, freelance photographer and devoted family member. She had two siblings: one older brother, one younger; her grandmother's signed copy of Frank Sinatra's Stranger's in the Night; and the beginnings of a long-lasting relationship with a precarious, yet oddly lovable teenage-crush-become-best-friend. Richard was two years her senior. They were going to get married and then have three kids.
The wedding dress lay forgotten in a box beneath the floorboards in her parents guestroom.

On April 23rd, two days after her 30th birthday, she disappeared.

On April 26th, while emptying her apartment, her fiancée found something in the Earl Grey tin that wasn't Earl Grey.
It was her heart.

Her corpse was found two days later, torso separated from her legs and split don the middle. On both sides of her neck were two neat but very deep puncture marks.


I stared at the sky out of the café window, looking like a spacey idiot, whilst sipping a cup of coffee. We were having a break from shopping now. I was relieved, but I couldn't tell from the expression on Hayden's face whether he shared my relief or whether he was actually disappointed.

"I think I have enough clothes." I said whilst eying the pile of bags beneath the table. "Any more and there probably won't be enough space in your car."

"Oh, there will be space." He asserted, watching me over the rim of his mug. "Besides, you still don't have any underwear." I was hoping he had forgotten, or would have avoided the subject… but no. Admittedly, this would have been awkward with Jett, too, but not nearly half as awkward as it was going to be with his engaged older brother.

I stared at the table, unable to think of anything to say.

"If my joining you would really make you that uncomfortable, then I will let you go and choose by yourself."

"Really?" It was difficult not to sound sarcastic.

"I'll wait here and make my way over in ten minutes." He offered, ignoring the previous derisive comment. "If you're still not done, I can always have a chat with the clerk. They tend to be quite talkative."

"Whatever. I'll see you in ten, then." I grumbled, realising that if I wanted to be done before he caught up to me, my only option was to go to the lingerie store directly opposite us. My scowl darkened when I saw some of the underwear in the display.

I didn't want push-up bras, or thongs, or g-strings, or sexy nurse's outfits, or even sex toys. Funnily enough, I wanted normal underwear, which seemed to be the one thing that this store didn't stock. I bet Hayden thought it was hysterical that it had been so ridiculously easy to send me into the lions den.

But it didn't stop there. Nope. Worse still, I recognised the overtly-enthusiastic face behind the counter.

Kill me now.

"Hey, Jade!"

"Hi, Millie." I greeted her, failing to even come close to her levels of enthusiasm.

"What brings you here today? Oooh! Let me guess! Let me guess!" I wanted to tell her that she was getting way to excited about this, but if I did that, I would probably end up ruining her fun. "You're here for some cute undergarments, aren't you?" I cocked an eyebrow at her use of 'undergarments'. What normal person says that? But then, I doubted Millie was anywhere near the boundaries of normal. "Don't worry, I have just the thing."

"As long as I get to keep my dignity." I surrendered.

Millie ignored me. "You want something really cute and sexy to seduce Jett. Cute would look so perfect on you…"

"I'm not trying to seduce Jett!" I exclaimed, half-shocked, half-embarrassed, teetering closer and closer to running away screaming like a little girl. I'm a virgin! Not some sex crazed whore!

"Hmm, but with a figure like yours, you could easily pull of a dominatrix…"

"Millie!" I wailed, grabbing her by the shoulders, trying to shake her out of her little fantasy. "I am not trying to seduce Jett! I just want some nice, comfortable underwear." I think the word 'underwear' managed to distract her. If not, I was going to have to break out the heavier artillery.

"Comfort! That's it!" She slapped her forehead as if it was so obvious she couldn't believe that she had missed it. "Just give me your size, and I'll be right back"

"If I have to."

Millie gave me that unforgiving look that said: yes, Jade, you have to.

A few minutes later, she returned with a sizeable amount of the horrid stuff and a very stupid grin on her face. I heaved a weary sigh, realising this was going to take longer than the six minutes I had left. "I have to try on all of them?"

"You say it as if it's a bad thing." Realising I was stalling, I took the pile from her, relishing in how it was so much lighter than all the pairs of shoes Hayden had insisted that I buy. He had mentioned something about Ashley refusing to share anything once I had my own stuff. That sounded reasonable, but having lived a relatively modest life, even two nice, different pairs of shoes were enough. Ten, for me, was borderline excessive. At least, for one shopping trip.

What I found even more disconcerting was the fact that everything that Millie had given me was red or pink and black satin and/or lace. I cringed. They were better than some of the designs I had seen, but the majority of the pile were things I had originally not spared a second glance.

Still, being the good girl, I tried them on. Well, only the ones gave me enough coverage. Some of them made me look good (even if that wasn't really the point), some of them made me feel ridiculous, some of them had little quirks that I didn't notice until I was wearing them.

"Hayden's here, Jade. Do you mind if he waits outside?"

Millie had caught me at just the wrong time, in the process of struggling out of something with a particularly tricky clasp. Definitely not buying that one. "Yeah… that should be fine… I'm almost - ouch!"

"Are you okay?" The curtain twitched, and I froze. Hayden was outside. That curtain, one way or another, was going to have to stay closed!

"Yes! Yes!" I lied, glaring at the fresh cut on my finger where I had nicked myself on a loose nail on the cubicle. "I'm fine. Don't worry. I'll be out shortly."

"If you say so." And the threat had passed just like that. I had been holding my breath - probably not my greatest idea because I might not have been so lucky.


As soon as we got back, I insisted that I carry the bags from the lingerie store. Hayden didn't complain, or argue, which I was thankful for - it meant I had less things to worry about. My first priority was getting back and hiding the bags before anyone saw the contents. I felt nervous enough at the idea of wearing them under clothes, but if anyone saw them, I couldn't even think of what would happen.

Sudden death, possibly.

Hayden went in before me. That probably wasn't the best idea, but it wasn't like I could do anything about it.

"Hey." Jett was already at the door, waiting for me. Crap. "Looks like you've had a successful trip. Did you get anything you liked?" Honestly, I tried to hide the bags. I really did, but I couldn't get them out of his sight in time. That look of recognition passed over his face, draining the colour from mine.

Shit! Shit! Shit! This was going to be harder than I thought.

He was smirking, in that god-awful way that some guys do. What was worse was that it was actually attractive. "What's in the bags, Jade?" He asked in an oh, so not innocent voice. Ha. I thought, you'll have to try harder than that.

"Oh, you know… just some stuff." I tried to go around him, but he was bent on obstructing me. "I was just going to go and unpack, so if you don't mind…"

"You want me to move for you?" His smile widened. My eyes widened, making me look akin to a dear caught in the headlights. "Will you show me what you bought?"

"Noooooo!" I screamed, ducking beneath his arm and sprinting flat out across his apartment.

His laughter mocked me in a way that wasn't intended to be mean, but amused. We both knew I wasn't going to get away, and we were right. When he caught up to me, he very gracefully tackled me to the floor.

"No! No! Get off me! Let me go!" I cried in horror when the contents of some of the bags had strewn themselves across the floor. Jett had pinned my wrists, so that all I could do was stare up at him, and the mess around me in total despair.

Hayden cleared his throat from somewhere in the room. I couldn't see him, but I knew he could see us. How incredibly awkward. "Seeing as you two are otherwise occupied, I'll take this as my cue to leave." I wanted to beg him to save me, but it was too late.

The door clicked shut.

I struggled again, but Jett wouldn't budge. "I don't see why you're so upset, Jade. I've already seen everything beneath the clothes."

"That's not the problem!" He looked about as confused as I did distraught.

"Then what is the problem?" He freed one of my hands to pick up one of the few thongs that I had decided to buy because it was actually comfortable, and I needed more pairs of knickers. It just had to be a thong of all things. "It's just a piece of fabric."

"But look how little fabric there is!" I protested, realising my mistake as soon as I said it. One part of me was mentally scolding myself for drawing his attention to it, and the other part understood that it had been hopeless from the start. "It's so, so…"

He chuckled, patting me on the head as if I were a child. "I understand," he said, managing very well not to sound like a condescending bastard. In all honesty, I bet he didn't understand at all, and he was just saying that to make me feel better. "I'll pretend that I didn't see anything, and you can go and hide these in your side of the wardrobe, okay?"

I didn't allow myself time to dwell on the idea of 'my side of the wardrobe'. I had only been in his flat for around two days, and he was already giving up his space for me. Yes, I was grateful, and yes, I should have thanked him - but as soon as my other wrist was free, all I could do was clamber to my feet, grab the bags and any stray contents, and slam the bedroom door loudly behind me.

My side of the wardrobe, huh?

I walked up to the screen of translucent glass, rolling it away, only to have my jaw dropping at the sheer expanse of it. It might not have been walk-in, but there was so much space that it was ridiculous. I could have two more shopping sprees of a similar size, and it still wouldn't be filled.

So, first I started packing the underwear, just in case he did walk in on me. It was too late for some things… but that was okay. I could deal. He had been surprisingly chivalrous about the whole palaver back there, in a sense; and I guess some part of me enjoyed running across the room in a startled frenzy.

The more rational side of me never wanted to do it again. Ever.

I had just closed the drawer with all the socks and tights in it, when Jett walked in. He didn't really look apologetic, even if he was trying to be. "I thought I'd help you out with the rest of your clothes. With two people it won't take as long."

"Thanks." I muttered, scooting over for him. The warmth of his presence was pleasantly relaxing. Yeah, I could so get over this afternoon.

For a long while, nobody spoke, until Jett broke the trend. "I'm sorry I laughed earlier, and I'm sorry I chased you across the room and tackled you. Really." I nodded, I had forgiven him, but it sounded like he had more to say. "It's just that over here we're quite open about ourselves... physically. We're relaxed. We're not horny idiots that screw everything we see, but we don't have this anxiety about our bodies that you seem to. I realised that, and I took advantage of it because you amused me. I'm sorry."

I folded the last pair of jeans, rolling the drawer back into place. "You think that I'm a prude." Jett said nothing, scowling down at the floor. "-And you're right. I am a prude."

"Jade, I…" He hadn't been expecting that, and somehow he thought it was his fault that I was talking myself down.

"No, Jett. It's fine. I know what I am." I looked at him, wondering if I should tell him, wondering if I shouldn't, wondering how much I could leave out. I couldn't help it. No matter how much I wanted to forget about it, I needed to tell someone. Even if it was only a little. "I mean… I went to a convent, for God's-sake! You don't get much more prudish than that."

Jett didn't laugh. He didn't even look surprised. It was as if he already knew, but I ignored that. I ignored the look on his face that said he knew much more about me than he should be able to. Even though he promised he wouldn't pry.

A long time ago, I thought most guys didn't care about girls' problems; always going on about how it's so annoying to deal with a girl who has them because it's all they ever talk about. Maybe I was wrong…

Maybe I was just jumping to conclusions.

Maybe it was unfair of me to lump Jett in with them.

But I hardly knew him. Sudden realisation hit me like a bucket of cold water. Had I even thanked him? "Besides, you've done so much for me and you hardly even know me." I smiled, patting him encouragingly on the shoulder. "I really, really appreciate it. Thank you." Hopefully my gratitude wasn't given too late.

He turned back to me, grinning again. I started to panic out of reflex. "You're welcome." He said.


A/N: helloooo! new update wahey! good stuff, good stuff,.

i'm too tired to write more...

other than that my inspiration for this chapter was exam panic. funny that.

i'll try to write the next chapter and update quickly!

THANK YOU FOR READING! :D :D :D